


The Wind Across My Back

by gaily-daily (passionateartist)



Category: Victor Frankenstein (2015)
Genre: Beware, F/M, M/M, as I boarded the SS Igorstein I drug a shitton of angst with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionateartist/pseuds/gaily-daily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor Frankenstein was a storm of a man. He blew in one day—unannounced, unpredictable—and swept Igor off his feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wind Across My Back

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the movie 2 hours ago and I immediately needed to pour out all of the feelings inside me and this was the result.

Victor Frankenstein was a storm of a man. He was a whirlwind; a wild and dangerously destructive force. An embodiment of nature itself. He blew in one day—unannounced, unpredictable—and swept Igor off his feet. And then, as all storms do, left without warning, leaving only a trail of shambles after his wake.

Igor remembers that day at the castle—the day that _thing_ was brought to life. He clings to the memory stubbornly, recalling in vivid detail the way the lightning struck in angry waves and the rain pelted down over his face. Igor could only watch as Victor stretched his arms to the heavens he didn’t believe in and call out into the night. And as the lightning flashed, illuminating Victor’s face, Igor couldn’t bear to tare his eyes away from the man. Victor had become the storm in that moment, crashing high above their heads. And he was incredibly and utterly _beautiful_.

Igor had spent his entire life looking up at Lorelei. He’d spent years watching her fly above the crowd as they clapped and cheered. To him, a lowly clown stuck on the ground, she’d been an angel. He loved her with all his heart. He loved watching her in her element as she spun and flipped and dipped through the air. 

That night as Igor had watched Victor scream towards the sky, he was suddenly and violently mesmerized. _This_ was Victor’s element. Where Lorelei had twirled, Victor flipped a switch. Where she had swung and flipped, sparks flew as technology burst into action. Victor was high in a trapeze of his own making, and he had no intention of ever coming down.

The aftermath had him stumbling. It hurt waking up alone in the rubble. It wasn’t surprising though. Victor was a flurry of chaos and limbs. He was impossible to hold down. Impossible to keep. Igor didn’t blame him. After all, how could he, an ugly circus clown, ever hope to catch the wind?

He settled down with Lorelei. She was kind and he loved her. He loved being with her and laughing with her. Days grew to weeks and week grew to months. They married and moved into a cottage just on the outskirts of town. Life slowed down as did the years. They passed slowly but surely, and everyday Igor would think that today would be the day that Victor would fly into his life once more to sweep him off on another adventure. And every day the door would remain shut, and Igor would fall asleep to dreams of lightning and monsters.

They name their first child Thomas, after Lorelei’s grandfather. Their second is a beautiful baby girl, full of wonder and curiosity. Igor names her Victoria.

By the time she’s five years old Victoria is already running circles around Thomas. Whereas her brother is still struggling with learning how to write, Victoria is pointing out all his spelling mistakes and grammar points. Igor thinks Victor would like her. He thinks of how he’d see her intelligence and immediately try to figure out all the things she knew and how to apply them to science.

Igor then thinks how Victor had probably never interacted with a child before and would be entirely clueless as to how to approach one. He’d probably try to teach her how to dissect a bird or something. 

Igor cringes. No, definitely not.

Every day, Igor watches his family grow and love. They sit at the dinner table every night, laughing and sharing their day with each other. But there’s still something missing. An empty chair. A missing presence. 

Every once in a while, when a particularly bad storm comes through, Igor retreats to his study and pulls out the letter Victor and had written him. So long ago now it seems. He runs his fingers over the paper and reads the words over and over again.

He was out there somewhere, continuing his work and stirring up trouble. The letter promises to come back one day. It was as if Victor had put him on a shelf intending to fetch him when he needed him again. But that was okay, just as long as he was still needed.

Igor still remembers what it was like in the circus. Remembers meeting Victor and saving Lorelei. The pure astonishment and wonder that lit up Victor’s eyes as he studied Igor for the first time felt like he’d never known what breathing was before. And when he’d been freed from his cage and they both ran for their lives, Igor breathed in and he was _alive_. It was a barrage of emotions and confusion, but it was a high that he hadn’t known he’d been missing his entire life.

Victor had taken him home, _fixed his back_ , and then flew off to the basement leaving Igor alone and incredibly dazed. It had been the longest shower in his entire life. The water had felt so clean and so good, but Igor couldn’t focus on anything other than the seemingly permanent look of glee and wonder on Victor’s face whenever he looked at him. No one had ever looked at him like that before. No one had ever looked at him like he meant something. Leaning over Lorelei on the dirty ground of the circus tent, Victor had stared at him for less than a minute before deciding to risk it all on some disfigured clown he’d only just met. He’d poured all of his faith into Igor without once thinking he’d misplaced his judgement upon a complete stranger. Igor remembers wondering if this was because of the man’s obnoxiously large ego or a very good judge of character.

It didn’t take long to figure out it was most definitely the first one.

Igor sighs and leans back in his chair. He didn’t need the brace to stand up properly anymore. He hasn’t needed it in years.

“Dear? It’s time for dinner.”

“In a minute.” He calls back.

Carefully, he folds up the letter and gently tucks it back into place between the pages of one of his old anatomy books. He thinks of how one day Victor will make good on his promise and come for him—probably in the middle of the night as Victor liked making things inconvenient for him. He thinks of how he might refuse in order to stay and provide for his family. He then thinks of how Victor would provide a counter argument that he can just send them money from wherever they’d be going and plus _science_ , and the good of mankind, etc. Then Igor thinks of how Victoria would cling to his leg and ask him not to go and Victor would have a very long, dramatic eye glare with her. He’d sink down on one knee and talk to her face to face and tell her that her daddy would be doing some very important work. Work that would one day change the world and does she really want to hold her father back from something that important? Then, reluctantly, she would let go and Igor would go back to his room to try and pack his things in a neat and orderly manner before Victor would burst in with a huff, bark he was taking too long, and shove the rest of his things in his suitcase before grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door.

 _Yes,_ Igor thinks, _that’s how it would go. ___

He then places the book back on his shelf and stands up to go join his family for dinner.


End file.
